Rage is a Weapon
by Doubleblade Miriko
Summary: ...Thought not for the weak. King's rage is something that sends peasant scrambling for cover, pleading for mercy and forgiveness. And the Horse laughs...   No yaoi in here, read at peace.


**Warnings/Notes: Bloody violence, cussing, torture, slight(or not so slight) insanity, sadism, OOC Ichigo(with a reason)... Longest list of warnings I've ever written, I suggest you take those seriously. I know that Halloween managed to go by already, but this is my contribution to Halloween fics, written when I was extremely angry.**

**Disclaimer: Thank your luck that I don't own Bleach.**

oOoOo

My head is swimming with anger that is not my own, turning the odd sideways, skyscraper filled world, dark and stormy.

Don't get me wrong, I'm rather wrathful and I have an unrivalled lust for blood, but this anger is really not from me, it's coming from my ah, so pure and precious King.

I feel blood pounding in my skull, this is not the mild annoyance of some daily stuff, nope, this is the rage people lose themselves into and become beasts...

Growl raises from my throat at the same time with King and I see through his eyes how group of thugs is cornering a woman, screaming mockery to her and making their intent to rape her very obvious. She pleads for them to stop when they press her against the wall.

Mine and King's visions grow red, I can feel my mind leaking to his, his eyes changing yellow, but we're not fighting for control, for once, our thoughts are one, our intention to kill, maim and harm is mutual.

We reach for our back pocket and fish out our beloved pocket knife, sharp as ever. Wide grin grows on our face, we lick our lips, anticipating the blood that'll soon spill to them.

With a spurt we reach the first thug, sinking the knife deep to his fat neck, twisting it and receiving a scream of agony as a reward. The thug falls and the next one takes his place, screaming in rage. Oooh, you know NOTHING of rage, nor anger, nor blood it all asks for... _Make him fucking scream and bleed, King... _I whisper_(or was it us, using my voice, I really can't tell) _

The knife tastes the delicate flesh just under his ribs, biting deep and spattering our hands with that beautiful red, red as our rage...

But no killing, nonono, that one will suffer... The smallest of the three thugs tries to run now, but we take chase. Not really a chase, we just catch him and slit his throat, feeling savage, justified pleasure filling our head, making everything sharper, brighter, more ALIVE than before. The part of us that is still more King than Us protests, but the smell of blood in our hands make us wild, we NEED to taste that, to know what death itself tastes...

Our eyes widen when the taste of blood hits our tongue, to rich, so deep, it's made of pleasure that makes our head swim and a moan escapes our mouth. _More is coming, one is still alive..._ The thought makes us giddy and we run to the place we left them.

Still alive one is crawling away, crying softly. Sign of weakness is something we relish, we want to make him cry even more...

Knife is glinting while we walk towards him, and he is pleading, like the woman was. _We're not giving ya mercy, but beg all ya want, it gives us such a rush..._

Knife is tearing apart his flesh, starting from his arms, we're cutting of his fingers one by one and loving loud, pain filled noises he is making, the look on his face when we lay his fingers for him to see before we move to his torso... Priceless.

When he sees the knife hovering over his heart, his screams turn to sobs for mercy, but he knows he won't get it. Your yellow eyes are still burning, our skin painted red with his blood...

We laugh at his pleads when we plunge the knife to his chest, right above his heart.

Skin, muscle and bone part and we see the heart, beating even when there's no skin, muscle and bone to protect it. Beats are fast and frantic, like it knew some of them would be it's last.

We run our finger over the heart, feeling it tense. The look of pure horror on the man's face... The feeling of blood running over our hands when we start squeezing the heart, it's frantic beats... Ya could be the worst drug addict in the world, but ya wouldn't know what a high is before you've held a beating heart in your hand... It's the high that makes even living seem insignificant...

We look the thug into the eyes, we see only red, if it's blood or our rage, I don't know, the high is making our thoughts fuzzy. We SEE how the life leaves his eyes and we howl with laughter born of unholy glee and twisted pleasure.

_(Against the wall woman screams, screams and cries but that is drowned out by our laughter, we can't see her, we can't even remember why we did this, all that matters is the MOMENT... Like a scared rabbit she runs, runs and is gone... How ungrateful) _

We become us again, me and King, though the rage is still there. With it might be remorse, but even that it buried under the memory of that high, the highest if highs.

Even King can't forget it, even he can't feel remorse over something that felt so fucking good... Red is gone, the King is gone from the scene and I can't see anymore, but the rage and longing for that high remain.

_Kingy, Kingy... _

_See what rage can do?_

_It's not a weapon for the weak or pure..._

_So what does that make you, my liege, my fallen King of shadows?(Shadow of a King...)_

_I hope ya like the red, I hope ya love the high(who couldn't?)_

_'Cause you'll be seeing a lot of them, before the end is nigh..._

oOoOo

AN: So... The most intence and violent fic I've ever written, written in a way I'd like to call "emotional violence" as in the actions aren't just described, but also the feelings of the killer are important in the story/fic. I wrote this to get rid of my anger last Sunday evening, when Gmail, Adobe Flash Player and our wireless internet connection united against me. I tried to send some pics to my friend and first Adobe went down, then internet went down, twice, and lastly Gmail refused to send the pics. I got the pics sent with a lot of cursing and wall hitting. And thus this fic was born. I do like my dark Ichigo and this is also my contribution to that set of fics. I hope you liked it, tell me what ya think. Over and out!


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